


The Princess and The Dragon

by Okase



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Blood and Violence, Character Death, Developing Friendships, Dragonborn (D&D), Dungeons & Dragons Character Backstory, F/F, Family, Fictional Religion & Theology, Found Family, Gen, Half-Elves, Multi, Original Character(s), Past Character Death, Personal Growth, Religion, Religious Conflict, Romance, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okase/pseuds/Okase
Summary: Bits and pieces from the life and adventures of Zephrine Auclair, draconic sorcerer and former circus performer-turned adventurer- turned Chosen of Tiamat, but like, Not Evil. It's complicated. Set in an original universe.Also posted on tumblr.Art of Zephrine can be seen here.
Kudos: 1





	1. A Letter to Mother

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be in chronological order for Zephrine's life events unless otherwise stated, and will be adjusted as I write more pieces. Setting is called Caerllon.
> 
> Also, will feature [Surina Amrinkarrec,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22798024) at points, who belongs to [ (brooding mischief)! ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broodingmischief/pseuds/ironwreath)!

"Dearest Maman, 

I hope you are doing well! It has been a while since I’ve written, I know. But, not without reason! A lot has happened and it has been hard putting it into words. But, I will try my best. 

Before you worry, I am doing well. I’m healthy, I’m happy, I have been sleeping and eating properly, I’ve made numerous friends and I’m surrounded by people who care about me. 

Most importantly, I found the friend I was looking for! Though truth be told she is my love, my partner, my heart, more than a friend. I am sorry I didn’t say so sooner, as at the time I wasn’t entirely sure where our relationship stood. I knew how I felt, but with what Lemaire had done, I wasn’t sure how Therila felt at the time. I know now, though, and she loves me, too.

That is her name, by the way. Therila Varghast. She’s lovely. Sharp and witty, passionate and wise… she keeps me grounded, but never weighs me down. She lifts my spirits, lifts my soul, makes my heart soar and even as I write these words down I feel like they could never do her justice. Even through everything, she’s been nothing but supportive and wonderful.

I just know that you’ll love her. I hope that you will get to meet her soon. I want you to. She’s even the reason I’m writing this to you. Not the reason I’m writing! Nothing could stop me from writing you for long, as you know. But she is the reason, or part of the reason, this letter is going to get… particularly lengthy. She has encouraged me to be honest with you.

You see, Maman, I have not told you everything about what I’ve been doing while I’m here. At first, I just wanted to avoid making you worry, but then it became… well. I need to tell you now. So much has happened while I’ve been here.

When I said that I came here to find Therila after Lemaire did what he had, that was the truth. I did also hire a mercenary, as I said. I do not believe I told you before, but her name is Surina, and at this point I view her as a friend. She’s a force of nature and everything that phrase entails, and she’s wondrous and sweet even if she doesn’t admit it. She stuck with me until Therila was safe, when anyone else in her shoes would have left long before. I was, as it turned out, a terrible employer.

Even before we set sail, I wouldn’t let Surina just do her job on her own. When she boarded the slaver ship, I went with her, pretending to be a buyer. When we got to Nyx, I chased up leads with her. When we ran into trouble, I fought alongside her. Or I attempted to, anyway. Strangely enough I was not a particularly good fighter, magic or no. Still, it felt wrong to just stand idly by and let her get hurt on my behalf. It felt wrong to just do nothing when Therila’s life was on the line.

Looking back on it now, I think I did more harm than good at first, but ultimately I’m glad I took a more hands-on approach. My magic has improved tenfold, for one! I’ll have to show you the next time I see you, but I’ve been able to do things I’d never thought I’d be able to. And not a single exploding bird! But more importantly, with the friends I’ve met and made here, I’ve been able to help people and I’ve slowly been finding out a lot about myself.

There’s been a lot going on in Nyx since I’ve arrived here. There were disappearances, for starters. Caravans were getting attacked, and people vanished. There was a plague, there’s been slavers. It’s been kind of a mess. I’m still not entirely sure what caused the disappearances, but I suspect it’s to do with the people who’d started the plague. It was something that was made by a group of wererat cultists who are really disgusting and like to spread disease and death wherever they go, and… I realize this probably sounds ridiculous, but I promise it’s true. And my friends and I ended up getting involved, and we, for now, stopped them from spreading the plague they’d made. We also stopped a group of slavers from selling off a bunch of innocent townspeople, saved a town from a hag… We’ve even saved and made friends with a local noble, Lord Victor Garland, whose estate I’m currently writing from. We also went through the Feywild at one point. Yes, that one. It’s okay, we made it out perfectly fine!

I’m hoping you’re starting to realize why I did not write to you about this earlier. Writing this out makes me feel like a crazy person, even when actually I lived through all of it. I cannot imagine how it feels to read this all the way in La Rochelle.

I suppose what you really you want to know, though, is why I’ve been putting myself in these situations.

Before you worry too much, Maman, I want to emphasize here that my friends have kept me safe, and I trust them to keep doing so. I’m not alone and I don’t see myself being alone anytime soon. There’s been a lot to process, but they have been and will continue to be here for me.

I’m sure you’re wanting to know who they are, and I’ll do my best to not turn this into more of a novel than it already is. Currently, with our group, there are five of us who work together, myself included. There’s Encore and Rask, who have been with me since the last time I sent you a letter, and now there’s Helena and Koda. Helena’s a cleric of Sarenrae, who I worked with briefly before the plague business really took off. So I’ve known her as long as Encore and Rask, really, though our time together has been more on and off. She’s sweet. She reminds me a bit of Anton, but more religious. Koda is new, and I don’t know him as well, but he’s a bard, very skilled with a sword, and most importantly an absolute sweetheart. A little nosy, but a sweetheart. 

Rask and Encore have been here the longest, and although we don’t always agree on things, they’ve always been here for me. They, along with Surina and a mercenary named Myra, were the ones who ultimately saved Therila from the person who’d held her captive for months. I’ll be forever grateful to them for that. 

Rask is from a remote tribe in the Wilds of Haldis, and was a warrior when he was there. He left to redeem his honor, for reasons I haven’t asked about, but I personally don’t feel like he has anything to redeem himself for. Although he can be fierce in battle, and sometimes I think he has trouble seeing the bigger picture, he has been nothing but sweet to me. Encore is currently working for the local Merchant’s Guild, and like Koda, he’s a bard as well. A talented singer, for sure, and a good dancer. (We even won a dancing competition together!) He’s also rather clever, and sweet as well, but should you meet him, don’t tell him I said that.

I know you’d probably like to know more, but I think it’d be best to meet them in person someday. I’d like you to meet them. They’re an odd bunch, but I’m part of that odd bunch and they’re all worth protecting, loving, and fighting for. There is not a doubt in my mind about that.

They have helped me a lot, and I’ve tried to do the same for them. I’ve also tried to assist the people we find who would not have help otherwise. I guess that is what I have been doing, in general? Finding people who need help, and helping them, making things better for them. It’d started with helping an information broker, Torvald Silverbelt, with finding his missing daughter, then it turned into investigating the plague in Nyx, stopping the people responsible for creating and spreading it… At the time, and even now it simply feels like it was the right thing to do. I never thought I’d be able to make a difference, before, but now that I’ve seen that it’s possible… I feel like this was what I was meant to do. It feels right, and it feels meaningful. It feels like, for the first time, I have purpose. I don’t know how else to describe it.

Which leads me to write what is perhaps the hardest part of this letter. When I mentioned that I have been learning things about myself since coming here, I was referring to several small things, like the fact that I enjoy getting people out of trouble and making things better for them, but also, there is something much larger. It’s not… unrelated. It ties in with making things better for people, I believe.

It started when, not long after meeting Encore, Rask and Helena, we stayed at an inn outside the city. When we were there, I apparently awoke in the night in a trance. I don’t remember much of what happened aside from waking up, floating in the air as a mark manifested itself on my arm, and collapsing to the ground.

_((There is an crudely drawn image of a symbol, a circular wreath consisting of five dragon heads. Upon closer inspection, it is clear that they are representative of the five Chromatic dragons.))_

That’s what the mark looks like. Or it sort of looks like that. You can better tell they’re dragons on the mark itself, and they’re made up of my scales, but differently colored. It’s not a burn or a brand, but a part of me, and as you can see, it’s a mark of Tiamat.

Before you freak out, I’m fine. I’m okay, and I’m still myself. I was understandably upset and scared when it appeared, and at first I was hoping to get rid of it somehow. As I’ve learned more about it and about Tiamat herself, though, I no longer want that, and I am no longer afraid. 

You know how the less you know about something, the scarier it seems? It’s kind of like that. I had prioritized saving Therila at the time, but as soon as I could, I bought a book about Tiamat and the people who worship her. I thought whatever I found about her would be bad. Initially, I only thought to use the book to find a way to get rid of the mark. What I ended up finding, though, eventually made me not want to get rid of it all. The mark itself at this time also started helping me. It would warn me of incoming dangers, it helped translate text I couldn’t read normally, it amplified my magic. It saved my life, and my friends’ lives, on multiple occasions. Then, I realized it wasn’t really the mark at all that was helping me. It was Tiamat herself.

I know this sounds crazy. This entire letter sounds insane, and this part sounds the craziest, but I promise you that it’s true. You know that I have never been the religious sort, Maman. I’ve left the occasional offering to Sehanine and given the occasional prayer, but you know that I’ve always felt that people are what influence the world in the way that matters, not the gods. 

But she appeared to me, and she spoke to me! It was through my dreams, at first, and initially I was not sure it was her trying to reach me. The first dreams were very cryptic, but were usually a warning of some sort, or a hint of what I should do. I am still unsure what some of the dreams meant, but others were very clear. She warned me of several things I ended up running into and without her advice, I am not sure how well I would have fared. She also insisted, both indirectly and bluntly, that I should seek her out if I were to get answers.

Because of course I had questions! What was the mark? Why was it on me? Why was she helping me? What did she want from me?

When I mentioned her insistence, what the mark had done ,and the dreams I’d had to my friends, they were rightfully skeptical and scared for me. They warned me not to channel the magic from the mark, and they assured me they would find a way to stop it. I didn’t agree that it was something that needed to be stopped. I felt there was more to this than me being some unwitting puppet of a supposedly evil god, but looking back I should have explained myself better.

I also should have told them before I eventually tried a ritual to contact Tiamat, but I did not. It was stupid, and reckless. I regret not telling them, but I don’t regret doing it.

When I contacted Tiamat, she had answers to the questions I wanted to ask. She was more forthcoming than I expected, yet more vague than I wanted.

I am, as it turns out, the next Hierarch. Yes, that Hierarch. The one in Tiamyra that people try not to speak of.

The mark on my arm is my physical connection to Tiamat, a part of her that is now a part of me. It is both a symbol to show others who I am and a means of channeling her divine energy. No more, no less, though why it’s on me specifically is rather interesting.

Tiamat claims my parents offered me to her before I was born. I don’t know why. I wasn’t given a reason, but was told it wasn’t something they did lightly. I want to believe her… or more, I do believe her, but I find it hard to wrap my head around. I cannot imagine what could possibly drive them to offer up their child to a god. Like most things regarding my parents, I am just left with more questions than answers. I suppose it ultimately doesn’t matter.

What does matter is what I intend to do with this. Tiamat says that she wants me to invoke change in the world. She says that her people hide away as the world fears and reviles them, and they do themselves no favors with their isolation. She says the upper echelons of society have grown complacent and indolent, and that the common people suffer for it. She says I am what they need, and that I can change things and lead her people to a better future.

I would have to see Tiamyra in person to know for sure what it is like, but I have seen enough through my travels elsewhere to accept the possibility that these things are true. I have seen enough suffering, I have seen nobles abuse their power and their people, I have seen the people who commit acts of cruelty and I have seen the people that ignore it. I don’t see why it would be different elsewhere.

But perhaps, you want to know why it is that I felt even remotely inclined to believe the goddess of deception.

It all culminated in one of her temples that I eventually visited. I wish I could show you what I saw there. Even with all the beauty in this world, in the places I’ve seen, nothing could compare to what I witnessed in that temple. I had seen glimpses of it in my dreams, but even as breathtaking as it was then, nothing could compare to seeing it in person. It was grand and old, maybe even ancient, hidden away underground and long forgotten, yet not only still standing, but in absolutely incredible condition once I entered the main doors. Impeccably. carved and crafted, with pillars at such a scale that from the ground they seemed endless. Flowing water, all around, waterfalls carving into the natural cavern surrounding me. Purple flames lit, unwavering, lighting everything around me in their pale arcane glow. On the walls of the long halls inside were carvings of all sorts, intricately and lovingly detailed, each telling a story. I saw dragons, and monsters, I saw beloved kings, horrible tyrants, I saw people like you and people like me, and everywhere I saw change. I saw common people overcome tyranny, I saw new rulers rise and old ones fall, I saw people take fate into their own hands and I saw the goddess, ever-changing herself, one moment the fearsome five-headed beast we are taught to fear, but as a protector, the next a more subtle form, almost indistinguishable from a large dragonborn, being a guide, an inspiration for her followers to take matters into their own hands.

As incredible as it was, though, seeing her, the actual her, was infinitely moreso. When she appeared to me, it was not as the five-headed dragon, but as the elegant dragonborn… half-dragon? She was tall and imposing, yet refined, seemingly flawless. Every movement she made felt both calculated and natural, as it seemed effortless yet perfectly precise. And her eyes… her eyes were like looking into infinity, made of magic and stars and time itself. Her presence was invigorating, refreshing like a breath of fresh air, or a cool breeze on a hot summer day. I was in awe.

In the moment I saw her, I knew she was infinitely more than what I’d been told, and I knew then that her mark was not a curse, but a blessing, a connection that felt utterly priceless. I was excited, I was elated, relieved, loved… I had found… faith, I suppose. It felt right, in a way I can’t even begin to describe. It felt so incredibly right.

Tiamat gave me the option to walk away, but I stayed. Our connection strengthened that day, and I made a promise to inspire, to change things, to make a difference in the world and to be her Hierarch and all that entails.

I don’t regret it.

Admittedly, now that I have had more time to process it, I realize that I have a lot to do and am not entirely sure where to start, but I don’t regret it. I believe I can use the opportunity I have been given to make the world a better place. I believe I can use my connection with Tiamat to help people, and I believe it is also what she wants me to do. She is not the horrible monster I and many others have grown up believing she is. Her spheres include deception, yet I have found deceiving terrible people to be useful on my journeys. She encompasses magic, and is ultimately where my magic comes from, and exploding birds aside, I have never felt ill towards my magic. Most importantly, though, she represents change, and people taking their fate into their own hands, and I think that is what I believe in most.

I believe the world needs change, and I believe it needs it especially right now. There is so much beauty, such beautiful people, and so much potential… and there are other people who wish to hoard it for themselves or crush it entirely. There are the nobles who get fat, who squander everything they’ve been given while the common people starve. There are people like the chevaliers, who have the power to do good, yet they abuse that power to hurt others simply because they can. There are those who watch while this happens and do nothing because they feel it isn’t their problem. There are slavers, criminals and cults running rampant, those who hurt and kill and abuse because they believe in something darker, or they enjoy it. Then, there are those who see all of this, all of the darker, unjust, horrid aspects of the world we live in, and feel utterly hopeless. 

I want to, and intend to give these people hope, but I intend to do more than just offer them weak platitudes. I want to actively make the world a better place. I want to protect the innocent, bring justice down upon the wicked. I do not want to simply tackle these problems one at a time and hope for the best, I want to make sure they do not happen again. I want to end suffering before it begins. I want people to have the opportunity to grow and change, regardless of their status. I want a world where people do not have to worry about simply surviving and getting by. I want them to prosper and thrive and be the most they can be. I want to do more than simply distract people from their suffering.

Although… I must admit, I am not yet entirely sure exactly how I am going to change the world. It is a rather lofty goal. I am sure it seems both daft and extreme. If it is any assurance, I know that in reality, I can only change so much. I have not lost my mind entirely, Maman. I promise.

That said, I do not know how much I can do until I actually do it, and my ideals, utopian as they are, are important. They are dear to me and someday I hope they are dear to others as well. I want to give people a brighter future to look forward to.

Try not to worry about me too much. As I said before, I am not alone. I have friends, and support, and currently a very fancy roof over my head. Also, despite all of my grand and lofty claims and ideals, I am taking things one step at a time, and starting small, by helping people as they need it. No grand attempts at changing society just yet. Just a bit of adventuring which I am now infinitely more adept at than I ever was.

Again, I am sorry I was not honest with you before. I got so wrapped up in not wanting you to worry, that I failed to remember that you only worry because you care. Also, that you tend to be able to sniff out when I’m hiding something and really, I should always be honest with you regardless. I promise to be honest with you from here on, though I will warn you now, Maman, that I… well, no. You already know I have a habit of getting into trouble. I will try to get into less of it if I can help it, though. For you.

Giving you grief aside, I hope someday soon I can see you again. It has been far too long. I know I won’t be able to immediately, as I have responsibilities here in Nyx, and I think my friends need me, but I promise you I will find a way to visit as soon as I can. I miss you, and I love you. My heart yearns for the day I can hear your voice once more, for the day I can hold you in my arms and see your face again. You are always, always in my thoughts. 

Love you, love you, love you,

Zephrine”


	2. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A harrowing encounter with the dark creatures from the Shadowfell- called the Sorrowsworn- becomes dire and leaves Zephrine the only party member who didn't go down in the fight.

“Looks like you were the only one who didn’t go down in that fight. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, I guess I was!” Zephrine laughed in response to Lazuli’s remark, but it was too high-pitched, too shaky, too easily broken, betraying it’s forced nature. Her lopsided smile echoed her true thoughts.

She never wanted to be the last one standing again. Not when it was her allies, her friends, her loved ones that were around her. It was chilling.

She looked around her. She looked to her friends, covered in blood but alive and safe for the time being. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and clenched when her gaze looked to what remained the figures laid out before them. In the dark, Zephrine couldn’t make out the colors of the…people… creatures? But she suspected it might not matter. They were lumpy, twisted and grotesque, even before they had been dealt with. Now on top of that, they’d been reduced to blackened meat, melted bits and marred tissue. Contrasting this, their faces were disturbingly near-human. Too human for comfort, and had the dragonborn not just had a near-death experience at their hands, the watery void of their tear-stained eyes may have invoked sympathy from her.

These days, she knew better, and these days, she knew when to focus on the task at hand. As she looked past the melted puddle that remained of one of the creatures- her handiwork- she clearly saw their origins. Dark, twisted and imposing, looming before the group of friends was a portal to the Shadowfell. Somehow, the pitch blackness of it stood out even in the night, and although Zephrine could not feel any sort of corruption, it still managed to carry with it a sense of cold dread.

There was the task at hand. Close the portal, and stop anything else from seeping through. Alone, it would have been impossible, but together, they were able to seamlessly dispel it, hopefully restoring the area in the process.

Yet Zephrine could not shake the proceeding fight from her mind, and the walk back to camp was quiet, solemn and contemplative.

The fight itself had only lasted a few minutes, yet so much had happened in that time. It was a blur, with bits of clarity in between that were haunting, bits that made her blood chill and her heart clench. There was the gaunt, emaciated face of the Lost, screaming mere inches away from her own as the dug its sharpened appendages into her back. There was the Lonely, latching onto both her and Lazuli to pull it towards itself in a desperate and painful attempt to keep them close, alive or not. Encore’s foreign Aarokocra body fell to the ground, dark, bloodied, tattered feathers burning themselves into Zephrine’s memory as she recalled feeling utterly powerless to help him. She was too far away, not quick enough, and one of the Lonely stood between them. She recalled the swell of relief as Helena brought Encore back to his feet, and how she was able to then focus on bringing down the wretched creature approaching her.

Most clear at the moment, though, was when one of the creatures got its grasp on Surina and, with a horrible shriek and using its grotesque, bladed appendages, made her go limp in its grasp before casually discarding her. As Zephrine stared into the back of Surina’s currently elven head, she recalled her heart sinking in her chest, she recalled no longer caring that she was currently in the grasp of a monster. She recalled screaming out Surina’s name. Even within the foreign body she was occupying, this was still her friend, someone who brought light to her life and Zephrine had to get to her, whatever the cost. 

With a practiced movement and a puff of magical smoke, Zephrine was closer, and only got closer from there, running with all that she had because she had to do something, anything. In her memory, tears formed in her eyes. Was there anything she could do? Was Surina even still alive? Was she dead? Was she too late? 

There was no time to ponder, no time to doubt beyond that momentary flicker of hopelessness as Zephrine kneeled down. Desperate, shaking hands clamored to be less fumbling and more useful, almost dropping her sword in the process. She took a deep breath, her free hand resting upon Surina’s seemingly lifeless body, and then she was no longer fumbling. As Zephrine’s eyes filled with stars, a familiar energy swelled within her, moving through her chest and her arm like a rapid current in a winding river, powerful, precise and unstoppable. Just as swiftly as the energy had been summoned, it went to Surina, beckoned by Zephrine’s will. It was going to be okay. Surina’s eyes opened, blue and piercing, the worst of her wounds healed, and she stood. The monster honing in on them wept without sound, readying its next attack, but Surina wasn’t alone and it was going to be okay.

Looking at Surina in the present, it was, more or less, but the experience was harrowing. It was easy to think of the normally-dragonborn as an unstoppable force of nature. To an extent, it was true. The woman was incredibly powerful, in more ways than one, and there wasn’t much that could slow her down, much less stop her. Tonight had simply been a reminder that there were still some things that could, however small and smaller that list continues to be. She wasn’t invincible, and even if she was, Zephrine still wanted to be there to support her.

Zephrine often and understandably made it a habit to ask her friends if they were okay after a fight. There was a practical element to it, but it served another purpose as well. It was a reassurance and a declaration. It was all implied, but what it really meant, at least to Zephrine, was “I’m here for you. I love you.”

But simple implications aren’t enough, and although words never felt like quite enough, either, Zephrine was going to try. Perhaps in the morning, when they’d had some rest, she could find the words that said more than just a small fraction of how she felt.


	3. Flawed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to help the party take down a vicious crime boss that threatens the city, Zephrine must try and regain the trust of someone she'd failed.

“When I look at you, Zephrine, I see two people.”

The tiefling woman across the room stared her down, and a lump formed in Zephrine’s throat. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called two-faced, yet having one’s flaws exposed was never a pleasant experience, no matter how many times you’d heard it before. Mirella’s piercing, cat-like eyes remained on Zephrine, taking her in, gauging her reaction.

“I see the person your friends see. The one that’s sweet and polite and says all the right things at all the right times,” Mirella explained, more than a hint of disdain in her voice. “Then I see the other person. The one that’s manipulative, a liar. Deceitful. Ruthless.” The last word was said with a particular venom, and though Mirella wasn’t yelling, her tone was sharper, her voice raised just enough, “So tell me, Zephrine, which one is actually you? The real you?”

The intensity of Mirella’s questions made Zephrine pause, even if for a moment. Two-faced, she’d heard, but ruthless was a new one. As she recalled the number of half-melted bodies she’d left in her wake, and unpleasant as the images were, Zephrine couldn’t disagree. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth, and her words had to make it past her heavily beating heart to be heard.

“Those are… both part of me,” she finally replied, an admission to herself as much as it was to the woman before her. “But I always try to do the right thing. I always have good intentions.”

Mirella folded her arms over chest, eliciting the soft clack of hard leather meeting more leather. She raised a perfectly arched brow, one of the few things about her that didn’t currently look tired and drained.

“Do you? Because I’m sure Mallox thinks he does as well, twisted as he is. What makes you different?”

Zephrine felt a pang of horror as she realized just how low Mirella’s opinion of her was. She knew the tiefling woman was angry, and rightfully so, but the comparison was an unpleasant jolt that rattled her insecurities. It made her think back to Princess Freydis, who caught Zephrine in a lie back at the party and decided immediately she was not to be trusted. Zephrine thought to Yara, way back in the day, threatening her when they were alone out of concern for Helena, because she thought she might hurt her. She thought to the Revered Mother who looked at her with worry and concern, and maybe a tinge of fear, like one would look to a bottle of champagne that had fallen from a shelf. She thought to Helena herself, and the day she told Zephrine that the Church of Sarenrae was considering locking her up for what she was, for her own good, but also the good of others.

These people had either not trusted her, been afraid of her, or both. Now Zephrine wondered if there was something more to it. Was she really that detestable, that worrisome? If she were to be locked away, or worse, would she be deserving of that fate?

Thankfully, the answer Zephrine found within herself was a firm and resolute _“No.”,_ Not so thankfully, beyond those insecurities, beyond the part that wondered if there was something more to the mistrust, there was a small part in the back of Zephrine’s mind- entirely hers- that hissed, _“How dare you!”_ And despite her better judgement, that was the part that Zephrine voiced, her temper snaking its way into her words.

“Do you really think I’m like Mallox?”

Mirella remained impassive, pointing at her. “There it is. You’re being manipulative.”

As quickly as it came, Zephrine’s anger shriveled in response. Was she? She hadn’t intended to be, and that alarmed her, just enough to keep her pride in check. Mirella was in her right to be angry and mistrustful. Zephrine took note to remember that. Her voice went quieter.

“I’m sorry.”

“You say that a lot, but are you really?” Mirella replied, no longer leaning against the wall. “How do I know that I can trust you? Tell me, how do I know that if I help you, I’m not just putting some other horrible person in a position of power?”

Zephrine had nothing to say in response, not immediately. Mirella continued her line of questioning, determined to find her answer one way or another.

“Why are you doing this, Zephrine? Because I’ve heard rumors. If this is just for revenge because Mallox imprisoned you partner, or something similarly self-serving, that’s not going to be good enough.”

That, Zephrine had an immediate answer to.

“I am doing this because Mallox has caused nothing but death and suffering.” Zephrine looked to Mirella, her gaze unwavering. “I want a world where people can live without having to worry about their lives being ruined, or being killed, or losing their loved ones.” Zephrine’s eyes grew increasingly fiery and impassioned as she continued, “I want a world without suffering, a world where people prosper, where they can be their best selves. That is what I want. That is what I’ve always wanted.”

As if she were convincing herself as much as she was trying to convince Mirella, Zephrine took a deep breath, keeping a practiced confident, head-on gaze. 

“That is why Mallox needs to die, and that is why I am doing this. I failed you, and I can’t make it right, but I can at least do this.”

It was quiet, or a moment, as Mirella searched Zephrine’s eyes for something, as hers did in return. Then, abruptly, the tiefling pulled her gaze away. Whatever Mirella was looking for, she seemingly found it.

“Alright then, I’ll help you. With this, at least.”

The relief Zephrine felt was palpable. Despite everything, despite what Mirella had gone through by Mallox’s hand, the tiefling was willing to help. She believed her. Which was good, an incredible burden lifted, because Zephrine meant it. Every word.

For all her flaws, her faults, her shortcomings and imperfections, Zephrine had at least that much to hold onto.


	4. Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephrine goes down in a fight, not for the first time, and worries that she is a burden on her friends.

She’d lost consciousness again.

This time, like the many times before, Vahzi’s little birthday present- a golden tail cuff- had brought her back from the brink. And this time, like many times before -Mallax, the basilisks, Sunscryer- the threat was taken care of in her absence. It was a relief to know that Orvanii was finally dead, yet it felt like she hadn’t contributed to it. The dragon’s death in general felt wrong, too. It was a waste. There was so much the blue dragon could have done with her power, and yet she’d chosen to enslave people to her whims. She’d not just squandered her potential, she’d spit in the face of it, and everyone else suffered as a result.

Zephrine instinctively put a hand to a cut on her side that hadn’t quite closed, lost in thought until Tristan brought her out of it with a question. A question she hated, admittedly, one that put her many bouts of unconsciousness in a different, even less dignified light, but it was nice to have a distraction all the same. The sight of Tristan grinning almost maniacally, bright teeth surrounded by an almost equally as bright beard and even brighter red hair, was hard to stay mad at.

She was glad the man was alive, but when she looked back to the fight, Zephrine realized it would have been smarter to go for Orvanii first. It would have been better to try and take Orvanii out before she could harm Tristan and herself further. Zephrine could have safely tended to Tristan afterwards. She simply hadn’t wanted to take the chance of him dying, and she’d gone down as a result.

It was hard to swallow. Zephrine knew that no one could make it alone and that everyone could fail from time to time, even the best and brightest, the strongest and most robust, but the frequency of her failings was starting to weigh heavily on her. She was relieved to see the town was safe, and it made her heart soar to see the relief in turn on the faces the townspeople, but beneath all the celebration was the nagging feeling that she didn’t deserve the praise. She’d gone down again, after all. Try as she might, again and again, to improve, she was still just skirting along, riding on the coattails of her friends.

She wanted to help, but was she, Zephrine Auclair, actually helping? It was getting harder and harder to say yes to the question. And this time, as she watched the light play upon the smiles of the townsfolk of Zuuft, the fiery red hair of Tristan, and the figures of her friends, she didn’t.

She would try harder, for them, until she could answer “Yes” and truly mean it.


	5. Pieces, Realizations and Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of another party member, Zephrine realizes that Surina had been possessed by her weapon, and resolves to save her.

The pieces slowly started to fall into place when Lazuli picked up on what the rest of the Iron Hearts could not.

Surina wasn’t herself. Since the attack on the city, she quite literally was not herself, instead influenced by something or someone. She was no longer in control.

Zephrine had thought Surina was simply grieving, in her own way, dealing with Mallax’s attack and the loss that came with it as best she could in the given circumstances. She had thought her earlier conflict with Surina had simply been the silver dragonborn’s dislike of Zephrine’s chosen, admittedly controversial god, finally boiling over. Zephrine had been hurt, she’d been taken off guard, and when she asked for an explanation she was simply left emotionally wounded and confused, but until Lazuli had said something, she had thought that surely there was a reason for Surina’s behavior that made some kind of sense.

Until Lazuli presented the option to her, Zephrine never would have thought the reason was that Surina was possessed. Now, she was almost kicking herself for not putting the pieces together.

Almost.

As Zephrine stood in the hallway, Surina’s door firmly shut a few feet away, the pain and grief and dismal self-reflection of the past two weeks washed away, replaced by a strong urgency like no other. Zephrine had poured her heart out to Surina, tried her best to reach out and appeal to her friend, and had gotten only glares and contemptuous comments in return. Comments like “Helping you was a mistake” and “You are weak, and your god is a crutch.” Comments that normally would have cut deeply into Zephrine, but now simply slid over her like droplets of rain, washing away any would-be pain to reveal what was actually worth listening to.

Surina referring to herself as a vermin. Surina almost desperately trying to push Zephrine away by whatever means necessary. Her refusal to even let Zephrine into her room, and her even stronger refusal to let Helena try something that at worst would do nothing and at best set her free. The tears that ran down her face that she didn’t even notice until they were pointed out to her.

They all revealed that Surina was not only not in control, but she was _suffering_.

Zephrine’s mind practically whirred at the realization, the gears turning and turning and finally putting the pieces together in full. The cruelty she’d experienced was eerily familiar, and recent. It was not unlike the man they’d killed almost two weeks ago. It was like listening to Mallax. And just the same has it had been with Mallax, the Scalepeeler had been with Surina this entire time.

Zephrine strode down the hall towards Encore’s room with purpose. Tonight, Surina was going to be free.


	6. Mutual Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of moments that helped Zephrine realize that while her partner and friends don't trust her god, they still trust her.

Tiamat was new to Zephrine’s life, at least as far as Zephrine knew, and she was mysterious, wondrous and terrifying all at once. She was a stranger, vast and unknowable, yet there was a familiarity to her that made Zephrine feel at home. Despite everything, she trusted her, and made no attempt to resist as the goddess took a large, draconic hand and lifted her chin with a firm, yet gentle precision. She tilted her face upwards so Zephrine could look into her eyes, dark, ethereal and full of twinkling stars.

“Zephrine, I see someone who is smart, who is beautiful, who will achieve great things. You have nothing to fear from failure, my child. You will become whoever you wish to be, and this world will be better for it.”

In that moment, Zephrine believed her, and she let that carry her onward even when the darker realities of the material plane reasserted themselves.

******

Encore’s response to her new faith was expected, in some respects. The siren made no secret of his distaste for gods, or anyone with authority really, so his distrust of someone who was both of these things was hardly surprising. His distrust of the one responsible for the mark appearing on Zephrine’s arm, even indirectly, was even less so.

“I doubt the veracity of her claims, I doubt her intentions and I don’t like how this was thrust upon you. But if there’s anyone who can and will use the powers given to them for good, it’s you.”

As the wind swirled between them and the glow of the setting sun surrounded them on the airship, Zephrine solemnly smiled and thanked him for trusting her. Only months later, however, did she fully appreciate the gesture he had made, and the sentiment of his words.She would take note to try her best to remember his faith in her, even when they disagreed with each other.

******

Therila looked thoughtful, as she often did, when Zephrine asked if her newfound faith bothered her. She answered in her usual forthright manner, never one to dance around the opinions of others.

“It still does, a bit. I don’t really have much time for the gods at the best of times, and Tiamat doesn’t have the reputation she does without reason. I don’t believe in her, and I doubt I ever will. But I believe in you, Zephrine.”

As if she had anticipated that it wasn’t exactly the response her partner was hoping for, Therila punctuated the last sentence by cupping Zephrine’s cheek with her hand. They bore the roughness of someone who spent the majority of their life outdoors, and her touch was firm, carrying Therila’s unwavering certainty with it. Zephrine found herself melting into her caress, and she felt the warmth in her chest spread, faith and love mixed seamlessly into one. 

*****

Helena’s faith in Zephrine was incredibly slow to start, in no small part due to Zephrine herself. Zephrine had done herself no favors when they met, pushing the tiefling away, finding her cloying, too childish and too naive to be reliable in any capacity. It was only after their experiences in Galindan’s tomb that things began to change, when Zephrine saw that Helena was in fact incredibly capable, and Helena saw that despite Zephrine’s past behavior and newfound deity, she was not an evil person. They spoke about it shortly after, as Helena aired what was running through her thoughts.

“I had my doubts about working with you again, but after what the temple guardian said, I realize I don’t have the full picture. There’s more to Tiamat, and there’s more to you, too. I know we haven’t always gotten along, but after everything in that tomb, with everything that’s happened… I trust you implicitly.”

It was at that point, as Zephrine smiled in response, that they found they both had common ground. They both wanted to be better people, and ultimately, they both wanted to help others. As they embraced in the morning sun, apologizing for past transgressions and vowing to treat each other better going forward, it was a promising sign that no matter how poorly things started, they always had a chance to change for the better.

*****

Lazuli looked sheepish when Zephrine made her recent ire known. The khenra woman clearly felt somewhat bad for spilling her secret, but her explanation for the slip-up was earnest. Lazuli often was earnest, almost to a fault, which Zephrine was very quickly discovering in their brief time together.

“It’s easy to forget how people see Her when you’re such a good example of what she stands for." 

Those words made Zephrine’s anger dissipate, gone in an instant with the gentle breeze that blew between them. Lazuli’s mistake might cost them later, but it was hard to stay upset when it was just that. A mistake. Being referred to as a good example of Tiamat’s principles quite possibly helped evaporate the frustration as well. Just possibly. Maybe. Either way, Lazuli’s words were important, and Zephrine would do her best to carry them with her.

*****

Surina’s response to Zephrine’s declaration that she would use her status as Hierarch for good was surprising at the time, though in retrospect, perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Surina had been with Zephrine through thick and thin, after all, and gone far beyond what she could ever ask of her or anyone else. The Scalepeeler brought Zephrine’s fears and insecurities to the surface, but it couldn’t destroy her love for Surina, just as it couldn’t destroy Surina’s love for her, despite its best efforts. 

“I believe you will, too.”

All Zephrine could do was smile warmly and thank her in response. She knew that Surina’s faith and trust was hard-earned, and she knew that to have Surina declare it outright was even more so. Zephrine treasured it, and promised herself to never take that faith, that trust, or their friendship for granted.

****

There were others who entrusted Zephrine with their lives, others who believed in her and believed in her cause. There were those she’d saved, like Nat’s parents, or the people of Moonshadow, who didn’t know about her faith at all, but had faith in her. There were those she’d saved that knew everything and still believed in her, like Victor Garland, or Yara or Otyl. There were even those who didn’t know her personally, but knew her situation yet clearly saw something worth trusting, even a little, like High Cleric Efferil, or even, Zephrine started to suspect, Revered Mother Cothique, before her passing.

It was easy to forget that amongst the personal struggles, the greater tragedies and the distrust from those she didn’t know. It was so simple, so easy to focus on the negativity around her despite all the positives that it was genuinely distressing. Zephrine found herself lost in the despair of it without even realizing, and it had gotten bad enough that she genuinely believed her friends had lost faith in her. How could they not, after all, when Zephrine barely had faith in herself?

It took seeing Surina suffer under her possession, the realization that she had been suffering while Zephrine was oblivious and wallowing in her own despair, for Zephrine to understand just how wrong this mindset was. Her god believed in her, enough to encourage her to claim her destiny. Her love believed in her, trusting her to accomplish her goals even in her absence. Her friends believed in her, staying with her even when things were at their darkest. Her god was practically all-knowing, and her lover? Her friends? They were amazing, talented, hard-working people. They were kind, and they were smart. They were good people, incredible people, and they believed in her. With how capable they were, would they really believe in someone who wasn’t worthy of that faith?

The answer should have been obvious, but now, instead of beating herself up for not realizing sooner, she let it lift her spirits higher. Instead of despairing, her heart soared. These wonderful, beautiful people of incredible merit that she believed in with all her heart, believed in her.

Never again would she let herself forget that.


	7. Blessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephrine is blessed by Melora at her shrine and is relieved to find she is not immediately scorned by the other gods because of her connection to Tiamat.

At first, Zephrine thought that the shrine had been abandoned. Flowers and shrubbery ran rampant, encasing the smooth grey stone of the altar and the statue behind it. Vines enshrouded the humanoid figure, obscuring many of the details, leaving only the face fully exposed. Only when Zephrine looked past the leaves and shrubbery did she notice the pattern of running water and foliage in the statue’s hair and clothing, and the small carved creatures within it. She almost immediately recognized the elven likeness to be the Wildmother.

Even before entering one of her temples a few months ago, Zephrine was fairly familiar. Aside from a casual regard for Pelor, her mother had always recognized the elven gods. Admittedly, the Archhart and the Moonweaver took slight priority in her childhood home, and “priority” was a very loose term since her mother was not particularly devout, but she was recognizable all the same. With that recognition, the overgrown state of the shrine suddenly made sense.

To confirm what she now suspected, Zephrine took a deep breath, calmly allowing her god’s magic to course through her, enhancing her senses as she now had many times before. For once, she was not greeted with foul odors of rot, fire and brimstone, nor was she simply met with nothing of note, but instead she was hit with something different, something surprisingly pleasant. Divine energy coursed around her gently, like a pleasant spring breeze, with it carrying the light scent of honeysuckle and fresh rain, clean and sweet and good. 

Hallowed was the word that came to mind, thought, heard and felt at the same time.

Zephrine gently put a hand on the altar. When she first found out about her connection to Tiamat, and especially when she first embraced that connection, she legitimately feared that she would be scorned by the other gods. Tiamat betrayed them, after all, if the stories were to be believed.These days, she knew better. She wasn’t going to burst into flames or turn inside out from the presence of anything vaguely holy. At least, not without interacting directly with something significantly more than just vaguely holy, and even then it would depend on the god it was connected to. Zephrine knew at the very least that Melora wasn’t going to harm her.

As she gazed upon the face of the statue, an idea came to mind. She’d known since she had sworn herself to her god that she wanted to use her status to change hearts and minds. As much as she could, Zephrine wanted to open a dialogue with people, to approach changing the world with as little bloodshed as possible. Why, she thought to herself, should she not extend that same attitude towards the gods themselves?

At the very least, it would show that she respected and appreciated the Wildmother. She was important, just as Tiamat was important, just as the other gods were important. It was a careful balance, and they all played a part. Zephrine wanted to convey that, hopefully without being offensive.

The dragonborn mulled things over for just a moment before rummaging through her pack for something to offer. For Tiamat, she offered her blood, but was solely for her, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be to Melora’s taste. She considered offering flowers, or something of the like, but she had none on hand, and disturbing the ones in front of her felt wrong, somehow. As she pulled out a shiny red apple from her bag, something clicked, and she pulled out four more. Normally, they might seem more appropriate for Pelor, having been harvested from an orchard, but these had sentimental value. They were her reward from the merchant she’d helped to save the day before, taken in place of the gold he’d offered initially. Zephrine smiled at the thought, getting almost misty-eyed as she recalled the sheer relief and unabashed gratitude on the halfling man’s face.

One by one, Zephrine set the apples upon Melora’s altar, unsure if the goddess would accept them. By the fourth one, she wondered if perhaps she had been too quick to make assumptions or had simply gotten too far ahead of herself, but then she set down the fifth one, and she felt it.

From her hand to her head and then down her spine, Zephrine felt a jolt that made her jump.It was surprising, warm and intense, but not unpleasant, and right before her eyes, the apples disappeared, bursting into a flurry of beautiful butterflies. A swift breeze enveloped her with them, warm like sunlight, the sweet honeysuckle smell from earlier returned, embracing her in its pleasing aroma. The butterflies, bright and colorful, almost glowing, fluttered upwards, eventually mingling into the scattered trees, and Zephrine was left with a sudden clarity of mind and the warmth of a pure bliss that pleasantly lingered long after they were gone.

She smiled, content that she had done the right thing in reaching out.


	8. Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Zephrine gets ready for a party after a near-death experience the night before, she realizes that the skills she picked up from her years as an entertainer still remain quite useful.

There were so many things happening at once in the life of the Iron Hearts, so many things that threatened to go wrong, that so many things that had gone wrong, yet here Zephrine was, somehow still standing. It was hard to believe, after the harrowing experience last night brought with it, but she was. The hazy, inconsistent memories of gnashing wererat teeth, wounds and sores, blades, and far too much blood tugged at the dragonborn, urging her to succumb to despair, but she pushed them away. The memories would be ignored along with the fear, the bruises and scars. 

Lazuli helped to push them away as well, albeit unintentionally.

As Zephrine got ready for the upcoming party, her khenra friend ummed and erred behind her. Uncertain about this, questioning about that, feeling like she wasn’t going to be good enough. The lack of confidence that was all too familiar, both from Lazuli and from herself on a more personal level. Even now, a part of Zephrine insisted that she wasn’t good enough, that she had somehow tricked people into believing she was good enough, and that she wasn’t needed. Like the near-incoherent memories of last night’s assassination attempt, Zephrine tucked them away and did not voice them. 

She also admittedly let some of Lazuli’s consternation fade into background noise along with the intrusive thoughts, opting to concentrate on her golden eyeliner instead. Perhaps Zephrine should have felt guilty for doing so, but Surina and herself had been attempting to help Lazuli carry herself as a noble for the past several days. In the process of this, however, there was something Zephrine was quickly starting to realize about Lazuli: Words alone, no matter how many times they were said, would not assuage her insecurities. It was hard to accept, as Zephrine wasn’t completely unsympathetic, but the thought was there. Despite this, she willed herself to offer one more piece of advice. Her ochre eyes remained on the mirror in front of her, but her voice was cheerful.

“You know, Lazuli, half of confidence is simply faking it until you make it!”

There was a moment as Lazuli took this in where Zephrine thought it may have sunk in, but as expected, the advice was instead met with heavy skepticism and a fair amount of grumbling. Convinced there was nothing left to be done at this point save to push Lazuli into the metaphorical water, Zephrine simply offered an almost exasperated “You’ll be fine.” and ushered her away with a finality that was not to be questioned. 

Zephrine’s eyes went from the receding khenra figure to the mirror once more, taking herself in, her smile faded.

She looked presentable now, her eyeliner perfectly aligned, gold against black. The blood and grime from the night before was long gone, replaced by a healthy, pristine sheen to her scales. The tired lines under her eyes were no longer visible, expertly reduced with the tried and true methods learned during her time as a performer- a steaming washcloth held over the eyes for several minutes, a glass of water, and a thorough application of face cream where possible. With it, no one would ever know that she’d nearly been murdered mere hours before. 

The cause of her misery was different than it ever was before, and then a strong sense of déjà vu hit Zephrine. She was very suddenly taken back to memories of getting ready for her performances, and the days when it was hard to do so, and all the times she had to carry on regardless. The causes would always vary- from hangovers to illness to messy breakups to simply feeling blue- but in those days, she was always able to put on the metaphorical mask and smile , no matter how she was feeling. It was always worth it to do so, too, if it meant she could make someone else’s life just a little bit brighter as a result.

The odd familiarity of her current situation almost made her laugh. She’d wanted to leave with Therila to stop being a performer, yet here she was, thinking of how things were so different now and suddenly realizing that despite everything, this particular aspect of her life had more or less stayed the same.

It was not entirely the same, however.

The stakes were higher now, and she was tired, so very tired, but the rewards of continuing on were higher, too. Much, much higher. She wasn’t just providing a distraction from people’s problems these days- she was fixing them. She was keeping people safe, she was making the world a better place, little by little.

That made her smile again, and this time it was real.


	9. Carry On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephrine visits her hometown for the first time in over a decade and becomes painfully aware of the lifespan differences between herself and the people she grew up with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that Zephrine has a half-elf alter-ego, which I will elaborate on in a future chapter.
> 
> I should also note that in the Caerllon setting, dragonborn and half-elves live ~350 years. Humans still have normal human lifespans.

Zephrine almost didn’t recognize her former boyfriend when she saw him behind the bar, but he immediately recognized her. His eyes lit up as he greeted her enthusiastically.

“Is that you, Zephrine?”

Zephrine blinked, and then her face lit up in kind, “Tynan? I barely recognized you!”

Tynan smiled in return, warm as ever, but undoubtedly older, with a grand handlebar mustache that wasn’t there previously and a slightly rounder figure. While Zephrine knew that he would hardly look the same as when she left, it was still somewhat of a shock, somehow moreso than the fact that he’d married her other childhood sweetheart, Julienne, and that they were now parents.

He seemed happy, though, and it didn’t take long for them to start catching up, talking about what had changed and what hadn’t, the good things and the bad, and how strange it was to have Zephrine back in La Rochelle and how strange it was for Zephrine to be back in La Rochelle. 

It took her back to days spent in sunshine and flowers, warm and carefree. Tenderly braiding flowers into Julienne’s hair and feeling butterflies in her stomach as they talked about a future that was never to be, as much as they wanted otherwise. Coyly giggling at Tynan’s terrible jokes when they were supposed to be working, basking in his smile as she nefariously plotted to kiss him beneath the blossoming pear tree when he least expected it. Talking about the cute soldier who was passing through town as her mother stood there quiet, knowing this new crush would go nowhere but clearly not wanting to invoke the wrath of the temperamental teenager next to her.

Back then, the most Zephrine had to worry about was whether someone reciprocated her feelings or whether her new haircut looked intentionally messy or whether her mother would find the broken scissors she hid deep in one of their cabinets behind the pots they rarely used.

She had more worries when she joined the circus, as was natural for someone leaving home for the first time, but even those concerns paled compared to her responsibilities now and the ones in her future. Now it was life and death, and the futures of both the many and the few, and all the little things that added up to a big picture going far beyond herself and further still. She noted the occasional grey hair in Tynan’s unfamiliar mustache, and her smile waned ever-so-slightly. Twelve years suddenly felt like two-hundred.

When it was time to meet Julienne and her newborn son, Palmerin, the smile came back in earnest, but it was hard not to notice the wrinkles around Julienne’s eyes that weren’t there before and weren’t simply from the exhaustion of being a new parent. She looked happy, though, like Tynan, which was a comfort, and little Palmerin was both very small and very adorable.

Physically, she’d barely aged a day. It was hard not to notice. Tynan was no longer the spry youth with a slight baby face, and Julienne was no longer a rebellious teenager, but Zephrine looked more or less the same as when she’d left. A little more mature, and small black scales on her arms that weren’t there before, but still more or less the same as when she left all those years ago.

As Zephrine held Palmerin and cooed over him with Helena, she watched the infant absently grab her claw with his tiny hand. Warmth curled in her chest. Things had changed and were changing, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Her childhood friends wouldn’t be in La Rochelle forever, and she still didn’t look forward to the day she came back and they were gone, but life would continue on here without her. It was humbling, and oddly comforting. 

Up until that moment, Zephrine couldn’t help but focus on the negative, on the fact that she would likely outlive most if not all of the people who currently lived here, that one day she would return and they would be gone. She could see why talk of life span difference was such a somber discussion, and why some might view such a long life as a curse.

Holding Palmerin, though, made Zephrine think to herself that maybe it was a blessing, too, to be able to see people grow and change and live. To see people finding their happiness, achieving their hopes and dreams, over and over. To be able to live with the memory of them and carry them with her, far beyond how long they might be remembered otherwise.

So she would carry on, letting them remind her of why she kept going.


	10. Turmoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During her visit to her adoptive mother and her hometown, Zephrine has several revelations that shed new, troubling light into what she thought she knew.

Zephrine looked towards the darkened sky, though her vision was blurred. Tears mixed with the cool rain, and she blinked, letting the swirling vortex of emotion wash over her, down to the earth.

It was unfamiliar, feeling so strongly yet not immediately understanding what exactly it was that she felt. She let the pitter patter of the raindrops soothe her as she picked apart her emotions, one by one, deep, slow breaths gradually bringing her down from uncertainty.

Sorrow? There was some, for the loss of her parents, even if it was long ago. It was hard not to feel a pang for what could have been, for the experiences they would never have. For the people who loved her and she loved in return, that she hadn’t seen in so long and would never see again. 

Relief? There was some, for finally knowing the truth behind her parents’ demise, and why Keriah- or Karie, as it turned out- would tell Zephrine to hide her true self and keep secrets and change her form when every other gesture the woman made showed she had nothing but love to give.

Fear? Somewhat. As Keriah described the shadowy, dragon-like creature that grasped the carriage Zephrine’s mother was in shortly before she died, there was the haunting realization that the thing from her nightmare was real, and still out there somewhere. She vowed to herself to be ready if it showed itself again.

There was… shame? Finding out she was a noble by birth wasn’t the joyful revelation now for Zephrine that it might have been when she was younger. Zephrine had long ago decided that the circumstances of one’s birth might give someone a better life, but it did not give them more value. Every person, no matter how seemingly mundane, was not only important but had vast, incredible potential. Anyone could be someone great if only they could be given the opportunities and the means to do so. Now Zeprhine was dedicating her life to making sure that everyone would have those means, and she believed, until now, that she could also be an example.

The fact that she was noble all along, that she was merely an example of the status quo instead left a sour taste in her mouth. Whatever she said now, it would ring hollow to those she wanted to inspire. Of course she could achieve the unachievable. She was destined to, born with great potential through blood and circumstance alone.

The bitterness seeped into her bones. Everyday people were conditioned to believe nobles were their betters by virtue of bloodlines, bullshit, and little else. The potential of the common person was hindered by those wishing to keep their power for the sake of having it, their dreams were cut short before they ever had a chance to fully develop. 

Now, Zephrine was angry. Angry that her parents offered her up to a god, even if she now loved that god, because it brought into question how much they actually loved her and how much of her fond memories were actually worth being fond about. Angry that she was only now finding out that things in her life were not as they seemed.

She blinked, rain continuing to fall down her face. Was she angry at Keriah too, for taking so long to tell the truth? For making her lie about herself to the town she grew up in, for all these years?

Part of her wanted to be. Zephrine had questioned so much, wanted closure for so long, and Keriah had at least partial answers this entire time. Having to hide as a half-elf took its toll as well, and Zephrine had suffered in her youth. For a long time, her dragonborn body was a source of shame and contempt, and only in her late twenties did she slowly stop wishing she were softer, less scaly and more human. Even now sometimes, she struggled, and sometimes it still hurt.

But even when she thought of this, she couldn’t dwell on it, and her fury slowly waned and eventually vanished. Instead, she couldn’t help but think of Keriah’s emotional state when they spoke several minutes ago. How she looked into the fireplace without really seeing it, wine glass grasped tighter and tighter to her chest, voice shaky and uncertain as the story of how Zephrine came into her care unfolded. Zephrine couldn’t help but imagine how hard journeying alone with a toddler must have been, especially so soon after such a traumatic event, knowing she might be pursued by Gods-knows-what or whom. 

The sorrow from before returned, an ache in Zephrine’s chest as she recalled all the selfless things Keriah- her mother- had done over the decades. All of the hardships she’d had to face, all the things that she’d never even dream of holding against Zephrine. Everything Keriah had done, all of which was clearly done to keep Zephrine safe. The secrets, the lies, none of it was done lightly or without purpose. The shadowy creature that killed Adeline and Marcel Lorenthal was still at large, as were whatever people may have sent it. That was the only reason Keriah held back, and though it may not have always been the right thing to do, there was no doubt for Zephrine that it was done with the best intention.

Alone, that may not have been enough. Terrible parents justify abuse with supposed love, after all. Nothing would excuse that, if Keriah were a terrible parent. But Keriah, flawed as she was, was not a terrible parent and never would be.

There was no doubt in Zephrine’s mind that Keriah genuinely and truly loved her. In all the gestures big and small, from the bright smile and warm embrace when they reunited today, to the constant and unending support in matters no matter how grand or mundane. From the childhood heartbreaks to the loss of her parents to anything else that came their way, Keriah was always affectionate, always supportive. Even when Keriah- her mother- had made mistakes, she always admitted them, always tried to fix them. Even as she made Zephrine hide from the world, Keriah always assured her that it was never because there was anything wrong with her. Zephrine was her daughter, beautiful, smart and kind, with so much to offer and so much to give, and nothing in the world could change that.

Tears rolled down Zephrine’s cheeks with renewed fervor, mingling with the rain, and she sobbed. What she felt now, more than anything, more than her anger and more than her grief, was love. Love for her mother, love for her friends. Love for all the things they had done, big and small, and all the things that they were and would be. It expanded from her chest, warm and certain, almost overwhelming, and Zephrine let it embrace her. She sniffled, turning back towards the cottage, her childhood home, knowing that she would always be welcome there. She would love and be loved, and nothing would change that.


	11. Injustice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A religious group tries to kill Zephrine and Surina because of their parents' connection to an ominous secret society, and the aftermath feels almost as messy.

Just when Zephrine thought she had closure in regards to her parents, she was dragged into their world once more. This time, though, it was different. It wasn’t simply a shocking revelation. This time, it had nearly cost her life, and worse, it had nearly cost the lives of her mother and friends as well.

Surina in particular had fared the worst of it. Not only had she been brought into the conflict with the Divining Eye, but she had been their other target, and they had nearly killed her.

As soon as she broke off with her mother, Zephrine made a point of checking on her friend. She was relieved to find that while she tended to Keriah, Lazuli had comforted Surina, and Surina hadn’t been left alone. When Lazuli left Surina’s side, Zephrine took her place without hesitation.

“Hey, Suri-” Zephrine’s sentence halted into silence once she noticed that Surina had been crying. Her heart sank. She paused, taking her in, and she tried to think of what to say. She cleared her throat.

“Okay. So, first of all,” was all she managed to say before closing the space between them, punctuating her sentence with a tight embrace. Words disappeared into the breeze as Zephrine let the gesture speak in her stead. She hugged Surina tightly, with all her might, refusing to let go so long as her friend allowed it. Zephrine shoved her face into Surina’s chest, lamenting that she’d nearly lost her so soon and hoping she could convey even a fraction of the vast array of swirling emotions within her. Surina was family, and Surina deserved better. Zephrine hoped the hug said as much.

When Zephrine finally pulled away, there were tears in her eyes which she made no effort to hide, but there was something else amongst the love, the grief and relief.

Wisps of green fire flickering from her nostrils as she exhaled, but the fire that burned in her eyes flared with a far more powerful intensity. This whole situation was wrong. It was wrong that her mother was taken, wrong that her friends were hurt, wrong that the seemingly good- if misguided- people of the Divining Eye had nearly died, and most importantly at the moment, wrong that Surina had nearly died, again. Wrong that she was hurt, physically and mentally, all for the deeds of their parents- the Lorenthals and the Amrinkarrecs- decades ago, and the stupid visions they brought on.

“No offense, Suri,” she seethed, looking out into the darkness of the night, “but I fucking hate your parents. You deserve so much better. You’re a good person, and you deserve better than to nearly die because of their bullshit.”

If she could have thrown something that would have been even vaguely impressive, she would have, but Surina interjected, giving the small huff of a laugh characteristic of someone who was actually quite miserable. “It is funny,” She said, clearly not finding the situation funny, “I am always paying the price for things other people have done, never for anything I actually did.”

Something twinged in Zephrine’s chest, a cocktail of grief and love, morphed and formed into anger. For someone so physically imposing, Surina looked incredibly vulnerable as she spoke. It was an honor that Zephrine was allowed to see it, but it hurt to see her in such pain. It was wrong that she kept getting hurt by others.

“It’s an injustice,” Zephrine snarled.

“It is,” Surina agreed, matter-of-factly.

Surprise flickered across Zephrine’s features, a blink that alleviated the rage. In the past when she brought up how Surina deserved better, the fellow dragonborn had bitterly dismissed it, insisting that the universe didn’t care about what she deserved. As awful as their current situation was, Surina actually admitting, even subtly, that she did in fact deserve more from life brought a small bit of light into what was otherwise such a grim affair.

It left Zephrine unsure of what to say. For the moment, it felt there was nothing else to say, and so she let the silent agreement surround them, turning her gaze towards the darkened sky. She stood in solidarity with the woman she regarded as a sister, noting the stars peeking between the thick rainclouds. Today had been wrong, the past unjust, but tomorrow would be righteous, so long as they had each other.


	12. Burn It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephrine is not pleased about the revelation that she is nobility. Therila offers advice, love, and reassurance.

_Lady Zephrine Portia Valencia Morgana Bellatrix Raponde Lorenthal, firstborn of Marquise Adeline Roselin Justine Lorenthal and Marquis Marcel Lorenthal, heir apparent of the Marche of Montrocheaux_

Zephrine glared at the words on the weathered page. If she could have, she may very well have set it on fire with her gaze alone, but alas, she did not currently know of a spell that would have the desired effect. Part of her wanted to see if she could find one by staring hard enough, but eventually Zephrine had to look away and tend to other things. Her vacation was already nearly ruined once, she didn’t want a stupid piece of paper to sour the remainder of it. She tucked the offending document away into her bag, out of sight and mostly out of mind.

It wasn’t brought up again until she sat with Therila in her mother’s garden, explaining everything that had happened in the past few days. Between the revelations of her noble heritage, her mother being kidnapped, and the near-deadly encounter with the Divining Eye, her vacation was sounding less and less like an actual vacation and more like some horrible feverish nightmare. As indiscernible as Therila’s listening face usually was, even Zephrine could notice the small frown tugging at the corner of her partner’s mouth, the slight crease between her brows.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Zephrine briefly excused herself to grab her pedigree, insisting it would give Therila a good laugh. Dramatically upon her return, she read out the names on the center of the page, Lady Zephrine Portia Valencia Morgana Bellatrix Raponde Lorenthal du Montrocheaux, hand to her chest as she feigned a snobbish air.

Instead of laughing like Zephrine had hoped she would, Therila’s lavender eyes instead peered into her soul, the small frown still present.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

Zephrine’s playful grin faded, and she looked away for a moment. Her voice grew quiet, as if she was ashamed to admit it, but admit she did. She could lie and deceive however she saw fit outside of their relationship, at least to some extent, but she promised she would never lie to Therila. Even if she hadn’t, she’d be a fool to try anyway, as her druidic partner was more than a little bit astute. Sometimes she realized things about Zephrine before she could realize them herself. The corner of her mouth pulled back in a slight grimace before deciding it was best to admit the truth. 

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

Therila gently grasped Zephrine’s hand in response, rougher white-scaled fingers intertwining with delicate black, 

“What’s bothering you about it?”

Zephrine paused, opening and closing her mouth as she thought of how to put it into words. Amber eyes looked into the middle distance as she recalled events both recent and old. After thinking about it for a while, her gaze returned to Therila’s.

“I… well, there’s a lot. The lies, almost being murdered, twice, the creature from my nightmares being real- there’s that, but I think what’s bothering me the most right now, weirdly, is-” Zephrine paused, furrowing her brow. “All my life, I’ve believed that anyone is capable of great things. Now, I…” she trailed off, noting the subtle raised eyebrow of her partner, “I still believe that! I still do. I’m just worried that it means less coming from me now, I guess.”

Therila listened, contemplating, before cutting to the core of things as Therila so often did, with a simple response.

“If you still believe that, why does it matter what other people think?”

It was almost frustrating sometimes, how to-the-point Therila was. It was something Zephrine loved, ultimately, but in moments like these it put her on the spot, making her address things that part of her wanted to avoid.

“I mean…. It doesn’t, for the most part. The nobles, I don’t care as much about. I can use my-” She grimaced, “Lineage to my advantage. But the everyday person… I want to inspire them, I want them to believe that they can do amazing things! Only now, if I try to use myself as an example, they’ll just assume it’s because I was born into nobility. I guess that’s what’s bothering me more than anything. I know it probably sounds stupid.”

There was another contemplative pause from Therila as she looked at the roses above them, but it was thankfully brief. She squeezed Zephrine’s hand, using her other free hand to cup her freckled cheek.

“It doesn’t, and they might, but I know you. You’ll inspire them anyway. And when you can’t do that, you’ll help them some other way. It’s what you do.”

With great affection and conviction, she kissed Zephrine, eliciting a broad, warm smile from her girlfriend in response. It didn’t immediately wash away the insecurities, but being appreciated was hardly a bad thing. Therila’s thumb caressed Zephrine’s cheek, a repeated, soothing gesture, and Zephrine leaned into the touch. The two lost themselves in the brief, sweet moment before Therila spoke up again, still stroking Zephrine’s cheekbone.

“Do you want my honest opinion?” She nodded towards the pocket where Zephrine’s pedigree was stowed away, “On what you should do with that thing?”

Zephrine nodded, somewhat reluctant to go back to the subject at hand. “Always,” she responded, and she meant it.

“I think you should burn it.”

Zephrine blinked, almost taken aback by just how blunt Therila’s answer was. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been too surprising, given both her partner’s personality and her history with nobility, but it was a jarring contrast to her gentle words and gentler caress.

“Let me explain,” Therila removed the hand from Zephrine’s cheek to make a placating gesture, sensing her unease.“If you keep that thing, it’s just going to be a weight that you carry with you. I think you have enough to deal with as it is, and I don’t think you need to add your parents to the list.”

Zephrine looked down at nothing in particular, mulling over Therila’s words. She understood where Therila was coming from, and part of her felt she was right. She was tempted to follow through, even, but another, louder part of her was bothered by the idea. She couldn’t put a finger on why, but she felt like it would be wrong somehow.

“You’re probably right, but I think… I think I need time to decide.”

“I’ll support you, Zephrine, whatever you choose to do.” 

Therila removed her hand from Zephrine’s, opting instead to wrap an arm around her. Gently, she kissed her on the cheek, and held her close, using her free hand to make sure Zephrine looked at her. Her gaze was intense and piercing, concern spreading across her features.

“Just promise me one thing? Whether you burn it or keep it, make sure you do it for you. Not for Tiamyra, or Nyx, not the Lorenthals. Not the Iron Hearts, or anyone else. Make sure it’s for Zephrine. Okay?”

Keriah’s words from the night before echoed in Zephrine’s mind as she looked at her love, about how she shouldn’t try to be the Hierarch or a Lorenthal or anyone else, how she should just be herself and how that would be enough. Zephrine still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, or what to make of Therila’s request. How much could she separate her identities: The Hierarch, the Lorenthal, the Iron Heart when they were all part of her? If she enjoyed helping people, then helping others was also doing what she wanted to do, wasn’t it? If keeping her pedigree was a way to open more avenues for helping as many people as she could, then that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? 

_Wasn’t it?_

Zephrine’s hand cradled Therila’s to her face as she decided to ignore the pressing questions boiling beneath the surface. Instead she chose to simply enjoy the sight of Therila, surrounded by red roses, iridescent scales glimmering in the afternoon sun like fresh snow in the springtime. Zephrine would figure out what she wanted to do, she just needed time. She smiled warmly, leaning into Therila’s touch.

“Okay. I promise.”


	13. Feared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the party arrives in the Ascendency, Encore's homecountry, Zephrine is confronted with the fact that a portion of the locals fear her.

The distinctive amber eyes of the guard averted their gaze as he bowed politely and withdrew from their conversation, and Zephrine was left with the poignant and distressing realization that he was _afraid_ of her.

Zephrine was under the assumption that her status as a member of the Celestial Order would garner her respect in the Ascendency. It had certainly just gotten the Iron Hearts into the town, and that was certainly useful. The look on the guard’s face however was unmistakable, and being on the receiving end of it made Zephrine’s skin crawl.

It was familiar, in a way. She’d seen similar looks and had probably made similar expressions in her rare encounters with nobility. It was the hovering sense of unease, thick and heavy like a fog, the silent acknowledgement that you were to do as you were told, that you were to be polite and respectful no matter how you were treated. You did this to avoid the ire of your betters, because to earn it would be to suffer the consequences, to lose everything.

This was similar in that way, but when Zephrine perused the local tavern, with her “entourage”, it slowly dawned on her that this fear was different. More pointed. Making casual conversation felt stilted, strained. A simple inspection of dusty fabric made the barkeeper almost physically recoil as Zephrine’s nose crinkled, like she was expecting some sort of cruel retribution for even the slightest displeasure.

Zephrine smiled and tried to silently reassure the woman that there was no such retribution coming, but it fell short, leaving a foul taste in her mouth that remained even when the Iron Hearts left the building. Zephrine couldn’t help but wonder what the barkeeper had been through, how she had been treated in the past to create such a reaction. Was it simply the reputation of mages and magisters, or was it something far more personal?

She had no way of knowing, so eventually she stopped speculating, but Zephrine struggled not to frown as she continued through the small, dilapidated town.

There was a small part of her before arriving here that thought she would be okay with being feared, at least a little. It got things done, after all. There was another part of her as well that couldn’t deny, at least to herself, that she enjoyed the flash of terror she brought about in the eyes of her enemies during battle. It was that small part of her that enjoyed the brief moment where they knew she would rain down acid fire upon them, where they saw her might and knew it would be their demise. That small part of her she was loath to admit to others existed, but was there nonetheless.

The experience in this town was different from that, and there was no joy to be derived from it. These weren’t crime lords, demons, corrupt nobles or any other monstrous sort. They were simply people. People like back in Nyx, or in her home in La Rochelle. People who just wanted to live their lives. People who deserved to live their lives without fear, without terror and intimidation.

Zephrine looked resolutely towards the group’s destination, where they would be one step closer to apprehending Magister Halward. There was a long road ahead of the Iron Hearts, and a long road ahead for her. One beyond the current goal of stopping the Magister, or even stopping the New Dawn. The reputation of her god, and her blood, her power and everything else meant that she was likely to be feared and reviled on principle. 

She had to be different. She would prove herself to be different. She would be a ruler worthy of respect, maybe even worthy of love. It would take a long time, maybe her entire life or beyond, but she would always strive to be better.

She would never rule through fear. This, she promised herself.


	14. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephrine leaves the party and realizes just how much she needed a break.

It was quiet.

Before this morning, before leaving Nyx, leaving the Iron Hearts, there had been quiet moments, but they were tampered with a persistent, niggling anxiety. Zephrine hadn’t been able to admit it to herself until now, but while there was no immediate danger that she knew of, she couldn’t help but feel a looming dread so long as she stayed in the Old Stone Villa.

While she was there, it felt like at any moment, something was going to go wrong and she’d have to stay longer to help fix it. There’d be a scream from the room over, a dagger in her chest as she slept, a doom prophecy in her dreams. An unfamiliar, disdainful glint in the eyes of any one of her friends that didn't belong to them. A furious dwarf coming into her room to yell at her over something or other.

But Zephrine was gone, now, and it was quiet. There were no sounds of combat or friends in distress. No urgent, panicked messages from Helena. Encore was free, truly, to be the best person he could be. Lazuli had found some answers, which lead to more questions, but Zephrine was confident she’d find peace. Surina, she’d seen off the day before along with Valcyis, and they were happy, and in love, and Surina practically glowed, a far cry from when they’d first arrived in Nyx together.

She realized, there in the rain, that her friends didn’t need her and would be fine without her, and for the first time in her life, Zephrine was content with that.

Things weren’t perfect, of course. There were still things to do. There was always going to be work to do, goals to work towards, problems to solve, things to help her friends with and people to save. But Zephrine was content with that, too.

Right now, she wasn’t focused on her neverending to-do list. It was hardly in her mind at all. She simply stood there, on top of a forested hillside, looking down at the meadow before her, the town beyond, the inviting castle in the distance, grey stone standing out against a cloudy white sky. Songbirds tweeted in the trees, and rain pattered on the ground and the leaves above. She let the water wash down her face, sliding smoothly down her dark scales, and closed her eyes.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d stood there before she felt familiar, cool hands touch her shoulders, causing her heart to flutter in her chest. Zephrine opened her eyes and turned her head to look behind her as best she could, and met her gaze with Therila. She’d been smiling already, but she smiled wider at her partner’s presence, planting a kiss on the end of her nose, which was immediately reciprocated. Wordlessly, Therila wrapped her arms around Zephrine, propping her head on her shoulders. White scales contrasted against shiny black as Zephrine put her hands over where Therila’s rested upon her stomach, and together they gazed at the scene before them, bright autumn leaves glistening in the drizzle that fluttered down upon them.

Eventually- neither of them were sure how long it was- Zephrine spoke up, leaning her head against her love’s.  
“We should probably get out of the rain.”

Zephrine could feel Therila smile next to her, as she replied, with amusement in her voice, “Oh, I dunno, the rain’s not so bad. It’s basically a druid shower.”

Zephrine not only laughed, but _snorted_ in response. “That’s gross, and also I’m pretty sure I have seen you use soap before.”

Her laughter was airy, lightweight, in a way that it hadn’t been in a long, long time. Therila’s was as well and the two enjoyed each other’s company in a way they hadn’t been able to until this moment. Together and separately, they had been through a lot, but more importantly, together, they had finally found peace.


	15. Dancing in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephrine and Therila spend time in the woods together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure fluff, as a forewarning. But it's _sapphic_ fluff.
> 
> May dedicate works like this to a separate thing later, but for now it remains here. :)

“I told you, I don’t dance, Zephrine.”

“I know, but… indulge me? Please?”

Zephrine looked down at Therila, pouting, pleading, and Therila finally looked up from her book, sharp violet eyes meeting soft amber. Her expression softened in turn, unable to resist the power of Zephrine’s sad puppy eyes, and she closed her book with an audible snap. With a shake of the head and a soft smile, she set it aside.

“Alright, but only because it’s you.”

Wearing a smile not unlike the cat that caught the canary, Zephrine offered her hand, helping Therila to her feet, and gave her a peck on the cheek. Her smile broadened into an impish grin as she guided her partner towards a grassless patch within the forest clearing.

“Don’t worry, if you step on my toes, I promise not to tell anyone!”

“That’s good,” Therila laughed in response, “These songbirds are quite the gossips.”

Zephrine blinked, paused, tilting her head as she noted their surroundings. She couldn’t see any songbirds, but there were a lot of trees and no doubt many small woodland creatures in the foliage. Loving a druid suddenly gave that a lot more context.

“Oh… I guess they can still see…” Her brows furrowed, and she looked Therila in the eye, their dance session momentarily forgotten, “Do you ever find it off-putting? The fact that you don’t actually have privacy out here? Ever? I’m not actually embarrassing you, am I?”

Therila chuckled again, grinning broadly, “No, I uh, I don’t. And you’re not. The plants and the animals tend to have their own priorities, so it’s never bothered me.”

“Hmm,” Zephrine hummed thoughtfully at the response, “I suppose you have never really been the type to care much about what others think of you.”

“Yes, that’s more of a thing that you do, love.”

Therila poked the tip of Zephrine’s snout playfully, making it scrunch up in indignant fury, offset by the deliberate quirk of the corner of her mouth when she tried not to smile. Zephrine took a deep breath, her posture straightening in an attempt to regain her lost dignity. She grasped Therila’s hands, holding one as she moved the other towards her side, and cleared her throat.

“Right, so put your hand on my waist…”

Zephrine felt Therila do so, for a moment, before it wandered further downward, wriggling under her tail and, cusped a cheek, and squeezed. Her face scrunched up in more indignant rage, eyes moving to glare at Therila, who wore a tight smile that was almost certainly an attempt to not outright laugh.

“My waist, _mon Amore_ ,” she scolded venomously, moving Therila’s hand, “not my _butt_.”

“Oh, uh, sorry, my hand slipped,” Therila lied unconvincingly, still smiling, “I’ll behave from here.”

“Good, you better,” she chided, moving Therila’s hand towards her waist once more,”and if you keep behaving you can grab my butt later.”

Zephrine pronounced the end of her sentence by slapping Therila’s bottom in hypocritical revenge, eliciting an indignant “Hey!” in response. 

“How come I have to wait later but you get to slap mine whenever?! That’s not very fair, Zephrine.”

”It’s revenge,”

“Well, I think I need revenge for that revenge!”

Swift and deft, Therila went for her partner’s rear once more, invoking a shrill shriek, and in an instant all composure from either dragonborn was lost. They devolved from a dancing pose to a tangle of limbs, grasping hands, passionate kisses, playful bites, teeth on skin, gasps of pleasure and fits of laughter. As Therila placed firm kisses along Zephrine’s neck, one for each brass scale that glimmered amongst the black, Zephrine gasped. 

“Ah, wait, I-” A kiss was placed on her lips, and she reciprocated, almost losing her train of thought again, but regained it once they parted, “Wait, I do want to dance with you, though. Actually, I mean.”

It took Therila a moment to register what was said, but she pulled away compliantly, looking her over.

“I think it will be nice. Not,” Zephrine smiled, putting one hand on Therila’s shoulder as she entangled the other with her hand, “That this isn’t lovely.”

“Alright,” Therila smiled softly, “I’ll actually behave, this time.”

“For now.” 

With a soft wave of their mutually held hands and a quiet whisper, Zephrine cast an illusion. The soft strum of a lute started to play within the clearing, from a tale of a chivalrous knight who fell in love with the dryad that saved her life. Zephrine wasn’t sure if Therila had ever heard it before. She thought to ask her later. For now though, she wanted to savor the moment.

Slowly, the two swayed and stepped in tune with the music, a leisurely pace, like the gentle breeze blowing through the trees. The sun was starting to set, tinting the green foliage around them in vibrant pinks and oranges and yellows. Songbirds sang their goodnight songs in the branches above, beckoning the light. Therila’s scales glimmered, sparkling in places not unlike fresh snow, but the colors washed across her like paint on a canvas. Her lightly-colored eyes absorbed and held the warmth of the sun, a fire within seen from without.

As the two danced together, Zephrine noted the differences in their movements. Zephrine, being the practiced performer she was, swayed gracefully, her movements fluid, like water, ever-shifting, accommodating to both the music and her partner with every step. Therila was less fluid, less practiced, but every motion was seen through. There was no hesitation, no reluctance. When she stepped, it was deliberate, with purpose. If Zephrine were less agile, she may have actually gotten her toes stepped on, but she was agile, and flexible, and so she didn’t. They worked well together.

Zephrine smiled, her heart fluttered. Even with their differences, they really did work well together. She was finding that more and more true as time went on, as their relationship bloomed in full.

Eventually Zephrine stopped humming to the tune of the lute, and eventually after that, the two women stopped dancing proper, instead embracing and leaning upon one another, swaying together to a fading song. Therila was the first to break the eventual silence.

“I think I’m starting to see why you like dancing so much.”

Zephrine kept her head where it was, rested on Therila’s shoulder, leaning against her neck. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she responded, softly, “It’s nice, like you said it would be. Just… moving with you. Spending time together.”

Zephrine pulled away to look at her, her arms wrapped loosely around her neck. 

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have.”

Therila smiled, playfully, “I mean, don’t expect me to make a career out of it anytime soon, but if it’s like this, I’ll be happy to dance with you more often.”

There was a pause, and Zephrine smiled back, kissed her on her mouth, once, twice, again until Therila made an addendum, with a grin, “As long as I get to grab your arse afterwards, like you said I could.”

Zephrine grinned back, all sharp teeth and mischief, and shoved her.


End file.
